


In This Sunlit Place

by vietbluefic



Category: Shadow of the Colossus, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadow of the Colossus, Angst and Tragedy, Archer Taehyung, Cursed Jimin, Curses, Dark Fantasy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hints of Fluff, Horseback Riding, Horses, Human Sacrifice, Hurt Jimin, Magical Deals, One Shot, Platonic Relationships, Sacrifice, Shadow of the Colossus AU, Supernatural Elements, Sweet Taehyung, Swords & Sorcery, Taehyung & Jimin Are Best Friends, Taehyung-centric, This May Be Expanded On, background bangtan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vietbluefic/pseuds/vietbluefic
Summary: Everyone knows that Taehyung’s never been one to be limited by rules. Beloved by the other villagers, young and old alike, they all agree that the boy possesses a huge heart that underlies a unique sense of wisdom. For his coming-of-age ceremony, people murmured in surprise and worry when he picked the largest, most intimidating steed in the whole herd, a dark bay mare whose tossing head towered above him by several feet — only to sigh and chuckle when horse and boy wound up forging the strongest of bonds after all.So, really, who could be surprised when one evening he strolls into the village leading Hodu by her reins with one hand, and holding the cursed boy’s wrist in his other?(Or;Taehyung is aware of just what he’d do to save his best friend’s life — what he’d do to bring himback.)





	In This Sunlit Place

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly really short and self-indulgent. Frankly it's not even technically finished; I'd intended to write through all sixteen fights with the titular Colossi of the video game, but after some time decided I wanted to leave this story where it ends. Who knows, though, maybe I will decide to write Taehyung's struggles against the giants! After all, that _is_ the best part of the game, heheh!
> 
> By the way, if you haven't played SoTC yourself, at least [take a listen to its soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57jIlw6HmCE). Because man, does this game have a special place in my heart. <3
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this so I do hope you enjoy this despite its short length and somewhat incompleteness! As always, thanks for reading, I love you guys!! > v </

The first time they meet, Taehyung is standing on Hodu’s back. The tanned leather saddle feels as if it’s been oil-slicked beneath his corded sandals, and a sharp breeze whips at his face, drawing tears to his eyes. Taehyung clutches the reins in one hand and flings out the other for balance. Seated, the mare’s gait is smooth and powerful. But standing like this, Taehyung feels himself teetering back and forth even atop her broad, massive back. His heart pounds at triple the speed of each of Hodu’s long-legged strides. Yet despite his nervousness, Taehyung can’t help the elated tingle in his belly; he can see _everything_ , from the rolling meadows of grass, the village shrinking behind them, to the looming mountains in the distance — all spread out like a canvas for him and Hodu to streak across, like wind-blown ink.

And when he sees the boy, it’s as a blob of white: a patch of unpainted paper, small and intrusive.

Taehyung blinks. The blob doesn’t dissipate. When he squints, his keen eyes ( _you’ve the makings of an archer,_ Yoongi had said) pick out the flutter of a colorless tunic as well as a patch of dark hair. Hodu huffs, tugs against the bit and Taehyung adjusts his grip on the reins to turn her. He takes a moment then to glance back and waves enthusiastically at his lone spectator.

The pale figure moves — as if startled — and then after a very long minute, extends an arm to wave back, slowly.

By the time Hodu has turned around completely, the boy is gone.

* * *

The second time they meet, Taehyung is jumping Hodu off the low rises on the meadow. Here and there are bumps in the earth, too humble to be called proper hills, too large to be mere mounds. Taehyung likes to imagine the earth as a massive slumbering creature, so that these bumps become the scars and blemishes on its grassy skin.

Hodu snorts, kicks off, and Taehyung lifts himself over her neck as they are airborne for one gloriously breathless second before her hooves pound into the earth again and he slackens the reins so that she can canter forward. Sunlight gives her dark bay coat an umber sheen. She smells warm and familiar, and Taehyung talks to her, running fingers through her black mane until she slows to a bouncy trot. One ear tips back towards the sound of his soft cheery voice, but then both flick away and Hodu stutters to a halt, whinnying. “Whoa, whoa,” Taehyung says, adjusting the reins in order to hold her huge head. “What’s up with you, good girl?”

Hodu champs against the bit and dances in place, nostrils flared, ears shoved forward in interest. Taehyung looks up and sees, once more, the faraway blob of white.

“Oh!” Taehyung brightens in recognition and lifts an arm to flail back and forth. This time, it doesn’t take as long for the figure to return the gesture which makes Taehyung beam. Delighted, he kicks Hodu’s sides lightly and crows, “C’mon, go, let’s go!”

They run through a few more jumps, showing off now, the boy in the distance watching from where he sits in the grass. When they’re done, Taehyung turns a sweaty Hodu in that direction, intending to say hello. But when the boy realizes that they’re approaching him, he springs up and flees towards the village, leaving Taehyung startled and puzzled, alone in the meadows.

* * *

The third time they meet, Taehyung almost gets killed.

Well — he insists that’s an exaggeration, at first. But afterwards, Yoongi takes one look at him and scolds him so severely about how Hodu is so large that if she _had_ trampled him, even by mistake, Taehyung would have easily been crushed to death and honestly he can’t really argue against that. In the moment, however, he slips his feet out of the stirrups and eases himself sideways until he dangles from the saddle, right hand white-knuckled where it death-grips the pommel. The other he lets trail over the ground, marveling at the sensation of dry grass underhand, a thrill of danger spiked through his stomach at how Hodu’s hooves slam and slice into the earth mere inches from his fingers. He can feel the bits of dirt thrown up by her feet scatter into his palm, that’s how close he is. Then Taehyung hears a shout, and when he looks, he’s so surprised by the fact that the boy in white is sprinting towards him that he forgets, and his hand loosens, and then he falls.

Luckily, Taehyung’s toppled from Hodu’s high back enough to remember the correct way to do so. _Un_ luckily, the summer has been dry and so the earth is unforgiving in its catch. Taehyung winces at the impact that jars his shoulder; his elbows scrape dirty-bloody, skin splitting, blades of dead grass jabbed into his face as he rolls. Hooves pound over his head — Hodu shrills a whinny — and an unfamiliar voice cries out somewhere nearby.

“Hey! Hey, are you all right?!”

“ _Ow_ ,” Taehyung grunts, blinking at the sky from where he sprawls out on the ground. A face moves into view, and Taehyung dazedly notes wide eyes, slim nose, and overlong bangs the color of charcoal. The face is pale, young and frightened.

“Are you hurt?! I saw you— You were hanging from your horse and I thought— You’re bleeding, shit, I’ll go get someone—”

“No, no, I’m okay.” Taehyung sits up, groaning but taking quick inventory of his injuries. He’s thankful when he doesn’t seem to find anything more serious than his elbows and a throbbing bump across his shoulders. _Ouch_ , but it’s a manageable and, more importantly, a non-fatal ouch. He grins and holds out his scraped palms. “I’m fine, see? I’ve fallen off of Hodu a million times. You should’ve seen me when I was first training her, I got so banged up and bruised!”

Tears well up in the boy’s eyes at that — but to Taehyung’s utter surprise, they turn out to be angry tears as the boy grits his teeth and snaps, “What, are you stupid? Seriously, are you _crazy?_ A giant horse like that and you don’t think to be more careful?! It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten killed yet with all your dumb tricks!”

“Hey,” Taehyung protests. “You like to watch us.”

“Because it fucking worries me! Teaching her to jump is one thing, but riding her sideways? What’s next, riding her backwards? Upside-down? Backflipping off while she’s galloping?!”

“Uhh, no.” Taehyung hastily rearranges his expression into a most serious look. “I’ve never thought of doing that in my whole life. Nope. Never. That’s, um, dumb.”

The boy barks out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh _spirits_ , I don’t believe this. You’ve actually considered it?!”

“It was just an idea, and I only had it once, of _course_ I know that’s too dangerous! Look, if you’re so concerned, then why do you stand so far away? A lot of good you’d do if you have to run miles just to make sure I haven’t broken my neck!”

The boy flushes red across the neck with fury. He shouts, “Well, _excuse me_ for trying to be polite and giving you and your horse some personal space!”

“You ran away!” Taehyung yells back. “I just wanted to talk to you!”

“ _You’re not supposed to—!!_ ”

Suddenly, the boy freezes. His face pales even further. He gapes, and Taehyung blinks at the sudden quietness.

“You’re not…” whispers the boy. There is real terror in his voice now, as there was when he’d screamed upon Taehyung’s fall. “You’re, you’re not supposed to… Oh. Oh, no. No. I messed up.” He backs away and Taehyung notices that his feet are bare and dirty. “We shouldn’t be talking.”

“Wait—”

But the boy shrinks back when Taehyung reaches out. He shakes his head and says, “I’m sorry, just— Please forget— Forget I said anything, forget I was here. I stepped out of bounds, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone now, I’m so sorry. Goodbye.” With that, the boy bobs a bow and then turns to hurry away. Taehyung sputters and lurches to his feet.

“Wait, wait! Come back!”

He almost misses the boy the first time, because the pain from his fall throbs through his joints and makes his limbs clumsy. But nevertheless, Taehyung dashes after and grasps at the boy once, twice, then catches his wrist between both hands and _hauls_. The boy yelps as he’s yanked backwards and the momentum hurls him straight into Taehyung, who staggers then falls again onto his butt so that the two of them collapse in a flailing heap. Taehyung grunts at the elbows and knees that jab into his belly, his ribs. He tries to get his legs back under him and struggles to disentangle from the boy. When finished, the latter blinks owlishly, mouth open and confused. He looks at Taehyung as if unable to comprehend what just occurred. Dried leaves stick in his hair, which Taehyung swipes away using a bruised hand. From off to the side, Hodu meanders over munching on a mouthful of grass. She snuffles at Taehyung’s face and all of a sudden he can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, struck by the hilarity of the whole situation.

“Thanks, by the way,” he says, grinning, seeking to break the awkward silence. He pulls back his hand and reaches up to pat Hodu. “For watching. And worrying about me.”

The boy’s face has shifted so that now he looks stunned, and even a little sad. “You’re. _Talking_ to me,” he says. Unsure how else to respond, Taehyung opts to nod. “And you— you touched me. I… N…No one is supposed to do any of that to me.”

“I know.”

“You _know?_ ” the boy sputters. “What do you— Are you saying that you _knew_ , this whole time?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung smiles a tiny bit. “I’ve seen you before, you know. The village isn’t that big, and besides,” he adds, propping his chin on his drawn-up knees, “you’re the only one besides Lord Kim who wears all white.”

The boy blinks and glances down at his unmarked tunic. Then he raises his head again to stare. “I don’t understand,” he whispers, bewilderment and fear alike entering his eyes now. Something else, too: Taehyung reads it clear as day. _Longing_. “Then…why did you let me approach you? Why did you let me speak? And why— why did you speak back?”

Hodu nudges her large face against Taehyung’s chest but he sits still, eyes fixed on the grass with a frown, combing over the question in his mind. The mare snorts into his collarbone and he braces his hands against her nose, then looks at the boy.

“Because you seemed like you wanted me to,” he says honestly, remembering the expression he’d spotted on the boy’s face, even from far away. His brow furrows worriedly in the next second. “But, um, was… Was I wrong? Do you want me to stop?”

The boy says nothing. At that, Taehyung dares to scoot just a tiny, tiny bit closer. He smiles.

“Hey. I’m Taehyung. Do you have a name, too?”

The boy stares and stares at him, his eyes as dark as Taehyung’s own. They’re wet now, and this time Taehyung is pleased to find that these tears are not angry ones at all.

“Yeah,” he says at last, and his voice is hoarse. “I’m Jimin.”

And then, slowly, he smiles back.

* * *

Jimin’s body is small in his arms. Small, curled up, and cold to the touch. Taehyung takes off his black-wool cloak to wrap him in it, even pulls the hood over his head to hide the boy from the world. But it does nothing to burn away the image of Jimin’s still face: eyelids open a crack, lips parted, tongue frozen in death. The hollow of Taehyung’s chest burns raw, bloody, but there are no tears left in him anymore. All he can do is clutch Jimin tighter and urge Hodu forward, ever onward.

The trees here are tall. Too tall, massive with age and overgrowth. Wildlife dwindles until Taehyung can no longer depend on deer and hares to hunt for meat, but lizards and the occasional bird instead, assuming he even stops to eat at all. He feels no hunger, no thirst. But he does feel exhaustion, sunk deep and debilitating into his bones. And grief. Oh, the _grief_. It scoops out his insides until he is left empty, a husk of himself, and an unceasing mantra roils through Taehyung’s brain as the clouds gather to sprinkle ice-cold rain down onto the earth.

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair._

None of this is _fair_.

Jimin is cursed: this is a fact, common knowledge among the people of the valley. As the sun sets in the west, and the moon rises in the east, so Jimin was born to an ill fate and thus everyone within the interconnected community takes care to avoid him. They cannot kill him for what he is, for that would just incur calamity even worse than death on the entire village. Better the devil you know than the one you don’t. But as a cursed one, Jimin must live a miserable, lonely existence, stripped of a surname and barred from ever having a true home. Only the shaman, the bridge between this mortal realm and the next, can interact freely with him. Only Namjoon, and Namjoon alone, can place a gentle hand on the boy’s back, smile kind and dimpled at him, and ask after his health without fear. He is Jimin’s very antithesis, birthed under auspicious lunar and stellar omens that pointed to his spiritual prowess. Even so, for the most part, Jimin is alone. Wandering between hut to hut, eating and drinking whatever’s given him by those who take silent pity, forever marked by his death-white tunic. No one is allowed to speak to him — not that they really even want to, anyway.

Until Taehyung, of course. Everyone knows that Taehyung’s never been one to be limited by rules. Beloved by the other villagers, young and old alike, they all agree that the boy possesses a huge heart that underlies a unique sense of wisdom. For his coming-of-age ceremony, people murmured in surprise and worry when he picked the largest, most intimidating steed in the whole herd, a dark bay mare whose tossing head towered above him by several feet — only to sigh and chuckle when horse and boy wound up forging the strongest of bonds after all.

So, really, who could be surprised when one evening he strolls into the village leading Hodu by her reins with one hand, and holding the cursed boy’s wrist in his other? All around, people freeze in the middle of whatever they’re doing to _stare_ , but Taehyung ignores them. He just chatters away at Jimin to which the boy smiles anxiously, face averted from the villagers’ iron gazes. Taehyung leads Jimin into his hut where his brother Seokjin turns to scold him for coming home so late, only to fall dead silent at the sight of that fluttering, white tunic.

“Jinnieeeeee,” Taehyung says. He gives Jimin’s trembly hand a small reassuring squeeze, and grins big and boxy. “This is Jimin. Can he have dinner with us, please?”

Seokjin’s eyes dart down to their entwined fingers. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, bug-eyed with speechlessness. At long last he manages to clear his throat with a high-pitched noise and glances aside.

“Let’s… Let’s see how the stew turns out first, yeah?” he murmurs, evasive. Taehyung’s face falls. Disappointment tastes bitter in his mouth, worsening when Jimin tugs on his hand to offer a watery smile. It’s fine, he whispers; he’s used to rejection. Not everyone is willing to shelter a living curse.

However, Seokjin does silently arrange an extra seat at the table, a faint smile crossing his face at the boys’ surprise. Hoseok and Yoongi return home with a summer-fat pheasant, where Jimin’s presence startles them almost as much. (Few things can take Yoongi off guard, and Hoseok tends to simply take most things in cheery stride.) Like Seokjin, neither of them dare speak to Jimin, and they keep to the walls of the tiny hut to avoid so much as brushing against him. But together they do find ways to be kind, albeit in a very roundabout manner. Yoongi, seated beside Jimin, Taehyung on his other side, never says a single word to the boy but piles his bowl with morsels until Jimin blushes under the attention. Likewise, Hoseok surreptitiously nudges a plate of fried beans closer to him and tells jokes specifically aimed to make both younger boys laugh. Seokjin never outright asks Jimin if he wants more food, either. Rather, he loudly questions whether anyone in the room feels up for second helpings, then accepts Jimin’s extended bowl with a damnably smug expression. Taehyung watches and his heart blooms with adoration for each person there. He loves his brothers, and already he loves Jimin, too.

“Thank you,” Jimin says later that night, where they huddle atop a woven quilt on the floor. Hoseok’s soft snores hum through the air from the corner. Further off, Seokjin and Yoongi slumber in silence, soundless save for their deep, even breathing. “Taehyung, I… Just thank you.”

Starlight glimmers through the slats in the walls; in the darkness, Taehyung thinks he can see the edges of Jimin’s eyes and hair alight, shot through with silver. He’d taken off his tunic for the sweltering summer-night heat, and without it, he looks like any other village boy, sweat-damp and sleepy. Taehyung sits up and gently whacks him with a pillow.

“Dummy,” he whispers, and Jimin cracks an eye-scrunching grin. “Go to sleep already, Jiminie.”

Jimin shoves his feet into Taehyung’s quilt-space and steals the pillow for good measure. He and Taehyung lie back down, heads pillowed on one another’s arms. “Are we friends?”

“Mm, I fed you, didn’t I?”

Jimin snorts. “Well, technically, your big brother did.”

“Yeah, but I brought you to him, so technically I’m _still_ the one who fed you,” Taehyung retorts. A brief pause falls over them. “You want to be friends, right?”

Jimin stares at him without blinking. His skin is pale compared to Taehyung, gentle olive against rich golden-brown. Taehyung half-wants to bite his cheeks, they resemble the squishiness of grain cakes so.

“Only if _you_ want to be.”

“I want to be.”

“Then I want to be, too.”

“Okay.” Taehyung beams. “Okay, so, we’re friends now.”

Jimin blinks, and to Taehyung it seems as if his eyes shine a little bit brighter in the dim. Something within his voice quivers ever-so-slightly as he asks, hesitant, “Forever?”

“Forever,” Taehyung says, reaching out to draw Jimin close so that they’re each face-to-shoulder.

“Forever,” Taehyung says, holding the cursed boy’s fingers.

“Forever,” Taehyung says, and feels the promise etch itself onto his heart.

 

 

(“Forever,” Taehyung whispers, but Jimin is cold and limp in his arms; he says nothing back.)

 

* * *

Hodu does not like the Forbidden Land. She snorts and skirts anxiously as they cross the towering stone gate, flashing the whites of her eyes beneath the shadow of the looming entrance. Sunlight blinds Taehyung when they emerge on the other side, and he shields his face with one arm to squint at what can be seen.

A vast wasteland: nothing but flat prairie and weedy grass for miles around, leading to sheer rock cliffs and dead mountains. Ahead, a spiny stone temple, structured like one of the fabled castles, streaks into the sky moss-coated and unwelcoming. Taehyung squeezes Jimin to his chest and dares not look over; the bridge Hodu stands upon is a million leagues long, and a million leagues above a searing sea of sand and rock.

 _Jimin_ , cries Taehyung in his heart. _Jimin, I can’t be afraid. Help me not be afraid._

“Hodu,” he commands. “Hodu, go.”

The mare tugs at her bit, rolls her eyes in reluctance. But again he orders, “ _Go,_ ” and even digs his heels into her sides, and thus with a squeal she relents and begins to move.

It must take them an entire day to cross the bridge, it’s so _long_. Yet the sun remains in its highest zenith, refusing to budge. Taehyung’s skin crawls with unease. This entire place is full of death, still and unnatural. The accursed, unmoving sun beats down on them without mercy, such that Taehyung feels sweat pour down his face, feels every inch of exposed skin tingle and burn. His bow and quiver bear down on his back, like the weight of the sky. Underneath Hodu’s tough hooves, the stones shiver invisibly with waves of heat, pebbles and dust dislodged with a clattered hiss. Relief beyond measure pours over Taehyung when at long, long last they reach the temple, and a door grinds open to allow them entry into blessed shade and cool darkness.

His relief doesn’t last long. Apprehension rolls in to fill the space between his sternum and tongue, strangling, as Hodu walks and walks through the dark silent corridors, down stairs, down and down a spiraling tower of endless steps, until they reach an altar. Here, in this open hall, sixteen strange idols stare down at him with empty eyes. They are animal and man and rock and grass, and Taehyung in no way wants to meet their gaze. He curls over Jimin’s corpse, clutches the boy tight to his chest and sways to Hodu’s gait as she carries him towards the other end of the shrine. A pool of sunlight illuminates the broken floor. Taehyung’s eyes are affixed to the altar further ahead.

 _There. Here._ He knows beyond knowing that this is where he must be.

Hodu whickers and shakes out her mane as he dismounts, causing the rings of her bit to jingle. Taehyung gently tugs Jimin down from her back and catches the boy before he can spill onto the ground, hefting him up into his arms. The cloak that covers Jimin is too long; Taehyung’s sandaled feet catch in its hem, so that he stumbles his way up to the altar. He ascends the steps, lays Jimin supine atop the table, then with shaking hands pulls at the folds of cloth until the cloak whips in a breeze and blows away. He doesn’t bother to run after it.

Taehyung _stares_. Unbidden, he thinks of that thing people tend to say about the dead — that they look so peaceful, as if asleep — and all he knows is that he’s _seen_ Jimin asleep, with his hair mussed, with drool on his chin and cheeks pink from dreaming, and _this isn’t it, this isn’t it,_ Jimin does not look like he’s sleeping, he looks _dead_ because that’s what he _is_. Taehyung feels his breath hitch and chokes back an agonized noise.

He knew straightaway then, too. He’d run home, run back from the berry-picking Seokjin had sent him out to do, because there were so _many_ and no way would Seokjin’s itty bitty basket be enough, so he’d run home where _he saw everything._ He saw the empty huts, the gathered figures in the village square — around the village altar — and a dread so horrible and all-consuming had gripped him so that he flung down the berry basket and sprinted forward. Taehyung had run until he’d reached the crowd’s edge, until he’d elbowed through the shifting mass of villagers both silent and praying, until he’d burst out of the crowd and _looked as they broke Jimin’s neck._

No. No. No. No. No.

Jimin’s body crumpled. There was no blood, no struggle; his accursed white tunic was crisp and untouched as snow. As slow as a stalk in the wind, he slumped from the strangler’s arms to sprawl across the ground, eyes half-lidded, _emptyemptyempty_. Namjoon (no, he was not kind and dimpled Namjoon then, only their shaman Lord Kim, who woke up screaming from a vision of a world bathed in writhing darkness, at the center of which lay a boy in white; Lord Kim, who sat and wept into his hands for what he knew he must do) closed the prayer of penance with a unsteady sigh. Shoulders slumped and heavy, he gestured for the tall executioner — a somber young man called Jungkook — to begin the funeral rites. With a weary look to his eye, Jungkook had knelt and reached to gently smooth Jimin’s eyelids all the way closed, but then Taehyung shattered the mournful silence when he _screamed._

 _Why?_ he pleaded, dragging Jimin into his arms sobbing in disbelief. _Why?_ he shrieked, meeting Namjoon’s sorrowful eyes straight on. _WHY?_ he bellowed at Seokjin, his brother’s face shocked and horrified amidst the crowd. _WHY?_ he raged at Yoongi, at Hoseok, at everyone who just stood by and _let_ this happen, let his best friend _die!_ _WHYWHYWHYWHY?_

_It’s not fair._

A sword hangs at Taehyung’s hip.

He’s never been good at swordplay. Yoongi (Yoongi who let Jimin die who would never speak to him who gave him the good bits of meat and watched him play with Taehyung the look on his face so  _sadsadsadsad_ ) told him he was better fit as an archer and it’s true; the weight of the hilt is strange and awkward in his palm as Taehyung slides it out of the sheath. The pommel is iron and crystal, gleaming bright in the unnatural sun. But the blade, honed and sharpened to razor-thinness, gleams blacker than soot.

Hodu shrills, rearing, and Taehyung turns to see the skylight in the ceiling shine brighter brighter _brighter_ — until both the sun and the stones awaken to sentience, and deign to _speak_ in a legion of voices, male and female and multiple, all at once, all in tandem. Words like no other shake the earth, shake Taehyung apart to his raw core, until his bones loosen inside him and his teeth seem to rattle within his skull.

Yet still, he thinks of Jimin lying cold on the altar, and so not once does his hand slacken around the sword.

“HMMM…? THOU POSSESS THE ANCIENT SWORD…AND ART MORTAL YET…”

Taehyung gapes for a moment, robbed of words by the presence that billows through the walls and floor and light in his eyes. But then he manages to gasp in air and force out, “Are you—! Are you the being at the edge of the world, who can b-bring back the souls of the dead?!”

“AYE… THOU ART CORRECT.” The voices-within-a-voice crawl on air, ripple through stone, sink deep into the space around his lungs and heart. “ _WE_. WE ARE THE ONE KNOWN AS _DORMIN_.”

Tears stream down Taehyung’s face, overwhelmed and terrified by the thing before, behind, around and _inside_ him. Still, he says, “My best friend was sacrificed, because he had a cursed fate. Please, I need… I need you to bring back his soul. Please bring him back to me!”

The voices _laugh_ and Taehyung’s knees wobble as he fights not to black out. “THAT BOY’S SOUL…? SOULS ONCE LOST CANNOT BE RECLAIMED… IS THIS NOT THE LAW OF MORTALS?” A pause lingers, then, and Taehyung thinks he feels a ray of sun upon his cheek. “WITH THAT SWORD, HOWEVER…IT MAY NOT BE IMPOSSIBLE.”

His heart surges with hope at once, fingers tightening around the hilt of the Ancient Sword. An heirloom, a spiritual and physical treasure within their tribe, guarded by Namjoon on order of his life — and now Taehyung has stolen it. He clutches the black-bladed weapon to his body and breathes out, “Really…?”

“THAT IS, OF COURSE, ONLY SHOULDST THOU COMPLETE THE TASK WITH WHICH WE ASKETH THEE…”

“What do I have to do?”

This time, when the voice-of-voices speaks, the massive statues lined along the walls seem to stir and shiver, but only just. They settle once more as the being intones, “BEHOLD THE STONE IDOLS THAT GUARD THIS HALL… THOU ART TO DESTROY THEM ALL. BUT THESE CANNOT BE BROKEN…NOT BY THE MERE HANDS OF MORTALS.”

“T-Then what do I do?”

“IN THIS LAND…THERE EXIST COLOSSI, WHO ART THE INCARNATIONS OF THOSE IDOLS. SHOULDST THOU DEFEAT THE COLOSSI, THE IDOLS SHALL CRUMBLE, AND FALL.”

“I…I understand.”

“BUT HEED THIS,” boom the voices of the stones, “THE PRICE TO BE PAID MAY BE HEAVY INDEED.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Taehyung says at once, and the truth of it sparks across his tongue like fire. He turns to look at Jimin’s motionless body, and feels something inside him both wither and bloom, fierce. Under his breath, he repeats, “It doesn’t matter.”

For a long minute, he hears nothing but the roar of his own blood within his ears, and the settling of dust on the parapets. Then the air swirls once more with two spoken words: “VERY WELL…”

A glimmer of light catches off the edge of the Ancient Sword, and Taehyung glances down in surprise to see a bluish glint shimmer down the black metal, before it vanishes when he lifts it.

“RAISE THY BLADE BY THE LIGHT TO GUIDE THY PATH. NOW…BE ON THY WAY.”

* * *

Sunlight gleams blue off the Sword’s blackness, light scattering, blinding every which-way as he turns in place. Taehyung watches as the rays narrow, streamlining thinner and thinner until a streaked beam shines northward: towards the shadowed mountains, beyond which gray clouds billow and swell through the sky.

Taehyung drops the Sword, glances over his shoulder once, and then faces forward again to spur Hodu into a gallop.

As he rides off, back at the altar, a dove pale as a colorless tunic alights above Jimin’s resting place, cooing to herself quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> [story aesthetic](https://vietbluefic.tumblr.com/post/175602311193/in-this-sunlit-place-by-vietbluefic-everyone)
> 
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